


Marked In White

by Imoshen



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2019 [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Gadreel, Come Marking, Come play, Dubious Morals, FBI Agent!Gadreel, Gadreel has them, Hand Jobs, M/M, Non-descriptive Murder, Slight topping from the bottom, Top Michael, Undercover Agent, mob boss!Michael, slight D/s, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 13:43:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17829656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imoshen/pseuds/Imoshen
Summary: FBI Agent Gadreel Penikett is undercover in Michael Alighieri's company to find evidence against the suspected mob boss.Gadreel also ends up under covers in Michael's bed. No one involved has any complaints with that.





	Marked In White

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted on tumblr @mrsimoshen.
> 
> Created for the SPN Kink Bingo for the square Come Play on my card.  
> Created for the SPN Rare Ship Bingo for the square Gadreel on my card.

FBI Special Agent Gadreel Penikett knows full well he’s more than just skirting the line of unprofessional behavior. In fact, that line is somewhere back in New York… probably in the building at Federal Plaza, neatly stuffed into a desk drawer somewhere.

Gadreel himself is in Los Angeles, has been for the past eleven months. His mission was supposed to be easy and straightforward: infiltrate Michael Alighieri’s business conglomerate, confirm the smooth businessman is, in fact, deeply entrenched in the organized crime, gather as much evidence as possible, and get out alive.

His two predecessors hadn’t found any clear evidence, and both had died in convenient accidents not too long after being pulled from the job – both of them on the opposite end of the country as Michael Alighieri himself, but Gadreel knows that doesn’t mean the man didn’t order those accidents to happen.

 

 

_seven months ago_

Gadreel takes a deep breath, glancing down to make sure his suit is still neat, and no strange stains have showed up in the ten minutes sine his phone rang.

He’s nervous, which isn’t good when one is doing undercover work.

He’s good at it usually, which is why his superiors decided to set him on the task. The cover is well-thought out, too, and Gadreel finds he actually likes working as a security advisor to Alighieri Enterprises. People listen to what he has to say, and more often than not, his advice is taken seriously. He doesn’t get shot at quite that often, either, and the lack of new bruises and pulled muscles certainly is refreshing, as is the guaranteed weekend except the two days of the month where he’s on call. (Another advantage is that he can use the position to give himself opportunities to sneak around gather evidence, and he’s not sure if this was on purpose or a lucky coincidence. Knowing the FBI, it’s the second option.)

The part that decidedly wasn’t planned is that he’s risen fast in the ranks, until Michael Alighieri himself noticed him – and apparently took an interest.

Since you don’t say “No thank you,” to an invitation to Michael Alighieri’s private office, Gadreel didn’t even try. He also didn’t dare wearing any kind of wire for this meeting. He’s seen other men leave the office looking a little disheveled and rather sated after a private late evening meeting with Mr. Alighieri, and undercover ops have been blown by stupider mistakes than not taking into account the possibility of sex.

(Gadreel tells the part of himself that has been fantasizing about Michael Alighieri since he first saw the man very firmly to shut the fuck up when it immediately supplies several positions that wouldn’t ruffle their suits too much.)

The mansion – and there is no other word for the house Michael Alighieri lives in, this is _old_ money, clearly – sits just a short walk away from the sleek modern building in which Alighieri Enterprises has its headquarters and where Gadreel works. He doesn’t even have to leave the grounds, just pass through a series of high-security doors and walk a short underground passage. He didn’t know this even existed before he was entrusted with the position he currently holds, and isn’t quite sure the passage was built legally, either, but he has to admit it’s really convenient to not have to step out into the rain that’s been coming down the whole day.

Gadreel steps through the last door (heavy, bullet-proof glass all of them, and he doesn’t want to know how expensive this was) and pockets his key card again, offering a smile at the security guard awaiting him.

“Mr. Alighieri demanded my presence,” he tells the man, who nods and points.

“Down the corridor, last door on the left.”

Gadreel thanks him and follows directions, discreetly looking around as he walks down the corridor. The art on these walls probably costs more apiece than Gadreel makes in a whole year. Some of it is really pretty, some of it makes Gadreel wonder if the artist was on some kind of drug while creating it.

The door to Michael Alighieri’s office is heavy, dark wood, and when Gadreel knocks, he immediately gets an answer in the form of a deep voice calling for him to come in. He suppresses a shiver and opens the door, stepping into an office that doesn’t fit the old-world theme of the part of the house he’s seen up until now at all.

The entire wall opposite the door is glass. Floor-to-ceiling windows provide a great view over the garden below and further out, the city of Los Angeles. They also make the room seem light and airy, aided by the pale wallpaper and light furniture. Mr. Alighieri seems to have a fondness for glass, because the desk he’s sitting behind is made of the stuff, too, and it’s the neatest desk Gadreel has ever seen.

“Mr. Tahmoh, so good of you to come here on such short notice.”

Mr. Alighieri’s voice has Gadreel suppress another shiver as he walks further into the room, the door closing behind him silently. “I’m honored you wanted to see me,” he replies, taking the outstretched hand. Michael Alighieri’s handshake is firm and cool, hints at carefully moderated strength, and Gadreel very sternly tells his libido to _shut the fuck up before you kill us both, goddamnit_.

His employer smiles at him and gestures. “Please, have a seat.”

Gadreel complies, slowly sitting down in one of the comfortable chairs in front of Mr. Alighieri’s desk. They’re real, soft leather, and more comfortable than the bed he’s been sleeping in since he came to L.A.

His employer sits down again, too, leaning back into his own chair with a smile. “How do you like L.A., Mr. Tahmoh?”

“It certainly is a lot nicer than Chicago, as far as the weather is concerned.” Gadreel smiles. “Warmer, and I like the ocean nearby.”

Mr. Alighieri’s smile widens. Those long fingers are playing with a pen, and Gadreel’s gaze keeps drifting to it. “And how do you like working for me, Mr. Tahmoh?”

Gadreel very carefully doesn’t tense. Does the man across from him suspect something?

“I like it a lot,” he replies. “It’s interesting work, and I like to think I am doing a good job on it, as well.”

“Oh, you are.” The possible mafia don across the glass desk sits up, still smiling, and rests his arms on the glass surface. The pen gets stroked slowly, up and down. “I’ve heard several department heads sing your praise, Mr. Tahmoh. Quick on the uptake, dedicated to the job, intelligent and polite… there is a reason you rose to your current position this fast, and it’s not just the fact you are easy on the eye.”

Gadreel blinks. “Thank you. I think.”

Mr. Alighieri laughs quietly, his expression truly amused. “Oh, yes, please take that as a compliment. Considering the many praises I just repeated to you, I think you will already have noticed that my taste in partners is… not quite heterosexual.”

Gadreel blinks again and nods. “I noticed who… came late and left early, let’s say.”

“So polite,” his employer grins. “Well, Mr. Tahmoh… I have two proposals for you, and I would like to make it very clear beforehand that neither your job nor the first proposal depends on your answer to the second.”

Gadreel can feel himself flush a little, because he can guess what one of those proposals will include. He noticed Mr. Alighieri’s eyes didn’t leave him the entire time he’s been in here, and those green eyes are just a little hungry. Add in the way the man plays with that damn pen… yeah, that’s flirting. Low-key, but flirting.

“Understood,” he says, holding that gaze. Mr. Alighieri’s smile widens.

“The first proposal is this,” he begins. “My Chief of Security told me this morning that she is pregnant – this is strictly confidential for now, of course – and obviously, I need someone to take her place. A mother needs to have less stress in her life than that position brings with it. I made discreet inquiries, and everyone I spoke to mentioned you as a perfect candidate. It is fast, I realize that – you have worked for me for less than a year. Four months is a very short amount of time, but I took a look at your application myself and noticed you are overqualified for the position you applied for in the first place.”

Gadreel blinks again – and he really needs to stop that, that is a tell and he really doesn’t need one of those – and leans back a little.

“I’m flattered,” he begins, “but are you sure I am the best candidate? I don’t want anyone harboring a grudge because I’m taking a job they wanted and have more rights to.”

“That is a commendable attitude, Mr. Tahmoh, but in my company, the work someone does speaks louder than the amount of years someone has worked here. You are the best person for the job – aside from the fact you’ve been with us very shortly. I would be keeping a closer eye on your decisions than I usually do for the first few months.” Mr. Alighieri smiles a little bashfully. “I’m sure you understand that’s nothing personal, just a precaution.”

“Of course,” Gadreel agrees, and doesn’t curse inwardly even though he wants to. Sneaking around while Michael Alighieri himself keeps a closer eye on him is going to be a truly idiotic thing to do. “And… the second proposal?”

“Forward, I like that, too.” Mr. Alighieri smiles. “The second proposal is of a more personal nature. As I said before, perhaps not quite this clearly, I find you attractive, Mr. Tahmoh. I’d like you to spend a night in my bed – with the option for more if we both find each other agreeable.”

A part of Gadreel – a part he hates, at that moment – considers the proposal with the eye of the agent who wonders just how much intel he could get if he secured himself a spot in Michael Alighieri’s bed on top of the Chief of Security position. He really doesn’t like that thought, because it makes him feel cheap – and because he knows his superiors would tell him “Well, lie back and think of Amerika, Penikett.”

A much louder part of him considers both proposals with the eye of a man who likes the work he’s doing right now, and the eye of a man who thinks his employer is fucking hot, and that part silences the other quickly.

“Yes,” he murmurs, and watches that verdant gaze darken, “to both. I’ll take the position you’re offering me, and I’d very much like to spend a night or more in your bed, Mr. Alighieri.”

“Michael,” his employer purrs, his smile growing. “I’m not quite into being called by my last name in bed. Or on the way there.” He gets up and slowly walks around his desk, and Gadreel breathes in sharply when he’s suddenly got a lapful of potential mafia boss who’s intent on kissing him.

And damn, Michael Alighieri can kiss, which Gadreel discovers seconds later and immediately decides he wants to have more of. A lot more.

Michael pulls back what feels like hours later, breathing quickly. His eyes are dark and hungry, his lips just a bit swollen from their kisses, and Gadreel makes a low noise in his throat at the sight and notices he’s gripping Michael’s hips in both hands. When did that happen?

“I want you in my bed,” Michael tells him, licking his lips. “Say yes, Garrett.”

The wrong name is jarring, and Gadreel suddenly _hates_ that, too, but he’s got very limited choices regarding that.

“Yes,” he murmurs.

 

That first night he spends in Michael’s bed, Gadreel gets caught up in the wild storm that is Michael Alighieri, unleashed. His lover is gentle, but demanding and thorough, and Gadreel ends up pleasantly sore when he leaves in the morning with a kiss and a promise to return soon.

He very carefully leaves that part out in the report to his superiors, just informs them of his soon to change position within the company. They go nuts enough over that, and Gadreel doesn’t feel like a whore quite as much.

He slips into his new position with surprising little trouble, the team he now leads more than supportive. Naomi is thorough in her explanations and training and lets him fly solo soon enough – which brings him into closer contact with Michael far more regularly than he thought.

That relationship progresses, too, until Gadreel places those meets for last on his agenda and discusses whatever came up with Michael during dinner, or over a glass of wine. His own apartment slowly becomes a place where he stores his clothes, as he spends more and more nights in Michael’s comfortable bed, and in his lover’s arms. Michael is affectionate when they are alone, and Gadreel is drawn in like a moth to the flame. He could probably help it by reminding himself this isn’t real – but he comes to realize, as the weeks progress and turn into months, that he wants it to be.

Here, his coworkers’ support isn’t just for show, and no one is looking to stab him in the back and rise on his downfall. If he makes mistakes, or anyone has doubts about a decision, they come to the rescue or inform him of their thoughts.

Gadreel liked working for the FBI, he enjoyed the challenges of being a Special Agent – but this is challenging him, too, and he finally has to admit the truth, at least to himself: he doesn’t want to leave. Ever. (He can’t admit that to anyone else, because his superiors and his handler would make him disappear in a dark cell somewhere, and Michael… Michael still hasn’t given any indication he suspects “Garrett” isn’t who he says he is. He’d probably shoot him on principle.)

And then comes the night where Gadreel gets definite proof of Michael’s status in the world of organized crime. His lover calls him just as he’s intending to leave his office, simply telling him, “I need you to accompany me to something.”

That ‘something’ turns out to be the interrogation and subsequent execution of someone who tried stealing from Michael – and apparently, Michael Alighieri has very little patience for that. Gadreel doesn’t flinch as his lover puts three bullets into the man, doesn’t evade the touch when Michael leans into him as they drive back to his home.

He’s got proof.

He doesn’t care.

 

Michael looks at him that night, perched on his hips, with a curious expression. His dark hair is a mess already from Gadreel’s hands, his lips are red and full from the kisses they exchanged. Gadreel looks up at the half-naked man on top of him and bites down hard on the words that want to spill.

Michael slowly looks him up and down, still with that curious expression, before leaning down for a slow kiss.

“I want you to fuck me,” he breathes, and Gadreel’s breath hitches.

“Yes,” he murmurs, and Michael moans and kisses him again.

Michael rides him, easily pinning Gadreel in place beneath him. It’s slow and soft and hard at the same time, and Gadreel begs for Michael’s kisses as he writhes beneath his lover, utterly caught in his spell.

Michael holds him close, later when they’ve cleaned up and are cuddled up beneath warm blankets. Gadreel usually isn’t the size to be the little spoon, but with Michael, it’s easy to slip into that role, and he’s happy to let his lover hold him. Ironically, even after today, he feels safe when he’s held like this.

He’s almost asleep when Michael finally speaks, close to Gadreel’s ear.

“So, should I expect the FBI to come calling tomorrow morning?”

Gadreel freezes. He can’t help it, even if it’s probably the best way to confirm Michael’s silent accusation.

“No,” he finally breathes.

“Do not lie to me, Gadreel,” Michael murmurs, voice quietly intense. “I’ve known for a while you weren’t who you said you were. I just didn’t want to believe you’d go this far for a job.”

Michael’s hand slides up to rest at Gadreel’s throat, quietly threatening, and Gadreel closes his eyes and relaxes into his lover’s – ex-over’s? no, please no – hold.

“I didn’t,” he murmurs, covering Michael’s hand with his own. “I haven’t given them anything in months, Michael.”

The hand around his neck tightens. “They would have pulled you by now if that was true, Gadreel. How much did you give them?”

“Lies,” Gadreel breathes, eyes still closed. “All hearsay and rumors I will never find evidence for because I don’t want to.”

“They’ll demand that evidence at some point,” Michael informs him, but there’s a new tone in his voice. Gadreel is reluctant to call it hope, but nothing else fits.

“They might,” he agrees. “They won’t get it from me. I haven’t witnessed anything that might point to you doing anything unlawful.”

Michael freezes behind him. “And what would you call this evening?”

“My beautiful lover being sexy as fuck,” Gadreel grins. Then he yelps when he’s suddenly on his back, Michael wild-eyed above him.

“Be very clear, Gadreel,” Michael breathes, his usually dark green eyes almost fever-bright. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that no matter if the name is Garrett Tahmoh or Gadreel Penikett, I am yours,” Gadreel tells him, shivering at the thrill of saying his true name out loud to this man for the first time.

Michael’s eyes go dark again, but it’s a hungry dark this time.

“Are you, now,” the (Gadreel thinks) most powerful man this side of the Rocky Mountains murmurs. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to a man like me, Gadreel.”

Gadreel laughs and shivers again. “I know.”

Michael growls and leans down to kiss him, and they don’t speak again for quite a while.

 

 

_Now…_

“Mine,” Michael murmurs, smirking. “Aren’t you pretty, Gadreel?”

Gadreel moans helplessly. He’s stretched out on his back, tied spread-eagle to their bed. Michael’s hand is wrapped around his cock, stroking and teasing just the way Gadreel loves it.

Michael’s hand moves faster. “Come for me, baby,” he demands, twisting and squeezing _perfectly_ , and Gadreel moans and arches up as much as he can and covers his lover’s hand in his release. Michael purrs, and then that come-drenched hand slips down between his legs, and Gadreel’s breath hitches as Michael uses his come to slide one long finger into him. (He got fucked the night before, so he’s still a little open, a little wet from the lube Michael used last night. His lover is feeling possessive, always does whenever Gadreel goes to tell his handler some more bullshit. Gadreel very much enjoys it.)

“Like that, do we?” Michael murmurs, working him open slowly. Gadreel moans in confirmation, writhing as much as his bonds allow. Michael smirks and adds another come-slicked finger.

His lover is relentless, fucking him slow and hard until Gadreel is hard again and begging to be allowed to come, and when he pulls out, Gadreel nearly screams his frustration.

“You’ll get to come, baby, don’t worry,” Michael purrs, straddling him and jerking his own cock fast and hard. Gadreel eyes it hungrily. “But I am going to mark you as mine before you do.”

Gadreel moans and lets his head fall back, baring his throat, and this time, it’s Michael who moans and curses.

The first hot splash of come across his neck has Gadreel whine, the second makes him moan. He can feel the come dripping down his neck towards the bed, warm, sticky lines that mark him as Michael’s, and he moans and arches as Michael pants above him, another hot streak spurting over his collar bones as his lover wrings the most out of his orgasm.

“Please,” Gadreel breathes, shivering as Michael reaches out to swirl his fingers through his own release on Gadreel’s skin. “Please, Michael.”

“Hush, darling.” Michael’s voice is hoarse, wrecked as it only gets when he’s really aroused. “I’ve got you.”

Fingers slick with come wrap around Gadreel’s cock, and the thought of that, knowing it’s his lover’s release that eases the strokes, has Gadreel mewl in desperation. “Please!”

Michael laughs. “Come for me, then, my pretty darling,” he orders, and permission given, Gadreel nearly screams as he covers his lover’s hand in more sticky come. “Open your eyes,” comes the next quiet order, and Gadreel complies even as his body shivers and trembles and more come spurts out of his dick.

“Fuck,” he breathes. Michael laughs again, finally removing his hand from Gadreel’s twitching cock. Those same fingers, dripping with Gadreel’s come this time, lightly drag over his chest, and the pattern is familiar. Gadreel desperately scrambles for his still blissed-out brain cells.

“There we are,” Michael murmurs, raising his hand to his mouth to delicately lap at the come still remaining. “All mine.”

Something clicks. “You signed your name on me,” Gadreel breathes, and fuck, if he could get hard again that fast, that would be enough.

“Mhmm.” Michael grins at him, reaching to the side, and then Gadreel mewls as cool glass is nudged against his hole and slid in. “We’re not done yet, darling.”

Gadreel moans and sinks back into the mattress, willingly accepting the soft, slightly come-flavored kiss. Today’s going to be fun.

 

 

Yes, Gadreel is more than skirting the line of unprofessional behavior. But honestly? He doesn’t give a fuck.


End file.
